


Too Sober for This

by Bohoartist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Alcohol, Cancer Arc, F/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 12:11:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9895961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bohoartist/pseuds/Bohoartist
Summary: “I’m tired of feeling bad, Mulder. Just for once, I don’t want to think. I don’t want to over analyze my actions, I don’t want to think about tomorrow, I don’t want to prepare for sickness. I just want to be here, right now. I want to feel good tonight, Mulder. With you.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for prompts "I'm too sober for this" and "I can't feel my legs"

“Shit,” Mulder muttered, sitting shell-shocked on the couch next to Scully. “What does this mean?” 

“It means exactly what I said, Mulder,” she explained. “None of it is working. They’re going to have to increase the intensity of the treatments.” She pushed a heavy, somber sigh past her lips as she let her head drop to the back of her striped sofa. 

“Shit,” Mulder said once again. 

A heavy silence settled over them in her living room, her latest medical records littering her coffee table. “I’m too sober for this,” she whispered to the ceiling before abruptly hoisting herself up and crossing to the kitchen. She opened the freezer door and began pulling out bags of frozen vegetables and a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Half Baked. 

“Scully?” Mulder called out from his spot on the couch.

Ignoring him, she continued to dig through the various items until finally her fingers closed around the ice-cold neck of a bottle hidden deep in the back of the freezer. She shut the door without bothering to put the food back; instead she opened a cabinet and grabbed two shot glasses before making her way back to the couch where Mulder sat staring at her, confusion and curiosity obvious on the planes of his face.

She set the shot glasses side by side and unscrewed the bottle of Stolichnaya, slapped the cap on the table and poured two perfect shots, not spilling a drop. She silently handed one to Mulder and immediately put the other to her lips, the vodka burning a smooth path past her tongue, down her throat and settling hotly in her stomach. Beside her, she heard Mulder mumble a quiet “vashe zdorovie” before he followed suit. Before she can stop it, a laugh bubbles up from within and escapes, loudly piercing the silence that hung thick and oppressively. 

Mulder stifled a cough as he swallowed the clear liquor. “What?” 

“Do you realize what you just said, Mulder? Vashe zdorovie. To your health. How apropos.”

Mulder had no response, instead his gaze stayed glued to hers and she refused to look away. 

“They’re going to have to increase the dose of Temozolomide. That coupled with more radiation...I’m going to get sicker, Mulder.”

He held her stare for a moment longer before reaching for the bottle and sloppily pouring two more shots, overflowing the liquor onto the coffee table.

“Dammit, Mulder, don’t waste it.” She chided and used her fingers to wipe up the spilt alcohol before sliding those fingers between her lips. “I don’t have much left.”

They took their shots and Mulder placed his glass back on the table while Scully played with hers in her hand, rolling it absent mindedly between her palms. Mulder wouldn’t take his eyes off her and she could only guess as to the reason why. 

Fear, she realized with a start. She could read fear deep within those hazel orbs, but there was something else that lingered around the edges. Was that arousal as he watched her throw back shots like a pro? Was he cementing her image into his memory for when the time comes that she won’t be around anymore? 

“When do your treatments start back up again?”

“I have a week.” Her vision clouded as the tears began to well in her eyes. Taking a shuddering breath, she put her glass down and reached for the bottle, once more pouring two perfect shots. She handed Mulder his shot and stared into hers. “One vomit and misery free week before it all starts over again.” She spoke into her glass. 

She felt a sob building in her chest, threatening to break free, and stopped it’s escape by quickly slamming the vodka down her throat. She turned back to Mulder in time to see him drain his shot as well. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, while his shot glass dangled lifelessly from his fingers. The sadness that was emanating from him was palpable leading her to feel as if she were dancing with her own misery, and another mirthless laugh bubbled up as she mentally admonished herself for allowing her mind to wax so poetic.

Slowly, she slid her fingers down the length of his arm, feeling the sinew of his muscular forearms, tracing and cataloging the bones as she made her way to his fingers, whispering their names as she moved, “Radial Styloid Process. Trapezium. Metacarpal.” She reached the smooth, wet surface of the glass and wrapped her fingers around it, and removed it from his grasp. The heat of his eyes singed her with every move she made, his fiery gaze setting her own skin ablaze. She liked it. 

She took another perfectly poured shot and placed the shot glass back in his grasp before throwing her head back and swallowing her own. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, observing the quickened breaths and tipsy droop of his eyelids as he continued to watch her. The alcohol coursing through his system made itself known when he attempted to blindly knock back his shot, his aim sloppy as only half of the drink made it into his mouth, the rest streaming off his chin and down his neck. 

Giving her second guesses and hesitations a well deserved night off, she leaned over him without warning and mopped up the dripping liquid from his neck with her tongue, tracing his jugular up to his ear where she whispered softly, “Don’t waste it, Mulder.”

Mulder gasped, sucking in a giant mouthful of air before grabbing her by the chin and facing her so he could look her in the eye. “What are you doing, Scully?” He whispered back. 

She held his eyes for a beat before responding, “I’m tired of feeling bad, Mulder. Just for once, I don’t want to think. I don’t want to over analyze my actions, I don’t want to think about tomorrow, I don’t want to prepare for sickness. I just want to be here, right now. I want to feel good tonight, Mulder. With you.”

She watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, his eyes as wide as the possibilities before him. He took the shot glass from her hands and placed it with his on the coffee table and reached for the bottle of Stoli, intending to pour them each one last drink, but there was only enough left for one full shot. 

“Do you want to share it?” he asked, his voice thick. 

“No,” she answered before quickly grabbing the shot and tilting it up to her lips. Acting quickly, he lunged forward before she could swallow and pressed his mouth to hers, his hand at the back of her neck, vodka dripping from between their lips. 

Lust and drunkenness grew in tandem as her tongue slid wetly against his, their hands grabbing, caressing, squeezing. She pulled away from his lips to drag messy kisses across his jaw and down to the crook of his neck while simultaneously dragging her fingernails against the rough ridge of denim below his belt. Mulder hissed a sharp breath through his teeth, roughly grabbing her hands and holding them off of him. He locked drunken eyes with hers before pushing one solid kiss against her forehead where the tumor pressed insistently from the other side. He put his mouth against her ear and whispered, “I want to make you feel good, Scully. So good.” 

She arched into him in response and he answered with a quick bite to her earlobe, her earring clinking against his teeth, her skin tingling and burning as he pushed his hands underneath her sweater, pressing against the warmth of her flat abdomen. He took hold of her waist and yanked until she lay flat on the couch, her legs splaying as he positioned himself between them. She grasped the hem of her sweater and impatiently pulled it over her head, tossing the garment behind her before reaching behind her back to unclasp her bra. Mulder stopped her, however, by roughly grabbing the cups of her bra and shoving them down underneath her breasts. She closed her eyes and braced herself for the feeling of his tongue making contact with her fevered skin, but after a moment of waiting with no resolution she opened her eyes. She found him mere inches away from the stiffness of her nipple, eyes closed, breathing. She could feel his expelled air caressing her thirsty skin. 

She whimpered in impatience, desperate for him to kiss her, lick her, suck her tit into his mouth, but he stayed there breathing her in, inhaling and exhaling against her. As she dug shaky fingers into his chestnut hair, desperate to pull him closer, the tip of his tongue quickly flicked at her nipple. A primal moan slipped from her lips as he took it into his mouth, sending jolts of pleasure to rush from her breasts to her clit. Her pitch and her back raised as he blew cold air onto her nipples before roughly unbuttoning her slacks and ripping them and her soaked panties from her legs. 

He eased himself between her legs, draping her knees over his shoulders, before taking a long, slow lick up through her lips to her clit. Her hips bucked, pressing her pussy into his face at the contact.

“Oh my God,” she breathed as she threw an arm over her face. 

He groaned in agreement, his tongue busy slowly circling her clitoris. He pushed her hips down into the couch so he could move lower, roughly shoving the thickness of his tongue as far into her as he could. She opened her eyes when she felt him remove a hand from her hip and nearly cried out when she saw that he had taken himself out of his jeans, hard and straining, and was roughly stroking the fevered flesh in time with his tongue fucking her, his nose bumping her swollen clit with each thrust. 

“Jesus, Mulder!” 

Every inch of her was involuntarily moving and she had no hope of staying still. Her head thrashed back and forth. Her hands had dropped to her breasts and they began rubbing and pinching her nipples, seemingly with a mind of their own. Her hips were brazenly grinding into Mulder’s face, her arousal coating his chin. Her thighs were clenching around his head, her toes curling against the t-shirt draping his back. 

She couldn’t stop it even if she wanted to. She could feel it starting deep in her abdomen, the pleasure coiling in the pit of her gut, the tingling shooting up her legs, the euphoria building and building as he pressed the flat of his tongue against her clit before sucking the bundle between his lips. She reached down and wound her fingers through his sweaty strands of hair and yanked his face into her and somewhere amidst the rushing in her head she heard him moan, the sound traveling into her body.

And she was gone. Every muscle in her body seemed to contract at once. She shook and screamed as the pure holy bliss of her orgasm washed over her, baptizing her in pleasure. She smiled and laughed as the contractions refused to stop and looked down to find him smiling at her from between her quaking legs, pressing sloppy kisses against the inside of her thigh. 

“God, Mulder, I can’t feel my legs.”

He slid both hands down the expanse of her legs to her ankles and back to the insides of her thighs. “That’s funny. I can feel them just fine.” The smile that graced his face when she laughed was more beautiful to her than anything she could think of in recent history. “What else would make you feel good, Scully?”

She let her gaze slide down his body to his erect cock, standing straight against his abdomen, dripping with need. She sat up and pushed him slightly away from her so she could swing her leg from behind him. She turned away and got on her knees, dropping her head to lay on her arms, thrusting her ass into the air. 

“Fuck me, Mulder. You fucking me would make me feel very good.”

He pressed himself against her and it was his turn to wind his fingers through her hair. Giving her a head a slight yank he leaned down and pressed his mouth against her ear as he pushed his cock inside her. 

“Then get ready, Scully. We have a whole week ahead of us.”


End file.
